


live hard

by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, MAJOR spoilers for s18, Pillow Talk, strong T rating btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/Miraphina%20Atherton
Summary: Within the span of a week, Bishop finds herself back at Torres' apartment, albeit for a rather different purpose. *strong T; also follows my other oneshot, "Redo"*
Relationships: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	live hard

**Author's Note:**

> The NCIS characters belong to Donald P. Bellasario, not to me. HOLY SMOKES, it turns out I had to do a sequel to "[Redo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948095)," thanks to the events of "1MM." Read, review, and enjoy! *Note: This is set after my oneshot, "Redo," as well as after s18e6, "1MM," so major spoilers ahead.

"My insurance premium's gonna go up. Son of a—!" Torres growled and bit back…a curse in English, Bishop presumed, as they exited the motor pool at NCIS. He let loose a second later with a stream of Spanish she hadn't heard before, although she was pretty certain she recognized a few four-letter cognates in the mix.

"I'll do my best to be the one driving next time the suspects decide to take our car," she assured him as they hooked a left out of the parking garage and aimed for the lot up by the main entrance.

Torres shot her a dry look. Then he raised his eyebrows and pointed a finger at her when she broke into a mischievous grin. "Not even remotely funny, Ellie."

Her grin melted into a smirk, just a touch, but she didn't regret lightly poking him. They'd had a hell of a day, thanks to the Duncan brothers. But, surprisingly, despite all the standing Bishop had done thanks to that stupid, stupid, _stupid_ wired jail cell, she appreciated this little traipse to the parking lot. It gave her the chance both to stretch her legs and to have a moment with Torres without their lives in jeopardy. For once.

"Oh, no…!"

Bishop turned to her left and took in the sight of an overly dramatic Torres dragging his hands over his face. "What…?"

"Damn it. I rode my friggin' bike to work today."

She furrowed her brow. "If that's such a problem—"

He sighed. "Nah, no. I'll just. I love my motorcycle, don't get me wrong." He scratched his scruff and mumbled, "But, to be honest, after a day like today, taking home our work car woulda been nice…"

"—then just park it in the evidence garage so it's locked up and I'll give you a ride home."

Torres shut his gaping mouth. He scrutinized her for several seconds, likely counting every instance she'd been snippy with him today, if not outright bitten his head off. But then another two seconds passed, and Torres softened, offering up one of his friendlier smirks. "No take-backs?"

Now Bishop settled him with a dry stare.

He laughed. "I got it, I got it…! Just let me move my bike and I'll meet you back at your car."

Bishop walked to her sedan and watched him from a distance. Torres knocked the kickstand up out of the way with his heel and smartly donned his helmet even though he was only driving around the side of the building, not far from where they'd just been, actually. And, with the motorcycle's roar a dull echo not in danger of interrupting her thoughts, Bishop took a minute to second-guess herself.

It was just a ride home. That was all. She wanted to end this week on a good, innocuous note between her and Torres. After her kidnapping and Merriweather… Then that hug and going to Torres' place and then that _kiss_ …

She frowned. Despite that kiss, she and Torres hadn't discussed the two of them. They'd gone back to…things like normal. They'd had breakfast after a night spent cuddling on his ridiculously comfortable couch, and then it had been back to life as they knew it these last few days. About the only difference was he'd sporadically get all smiley on her, like earlier today when they arrived at the historic site before they promptly got ambushed by the Duncans. The normalcy and his sneak-attack smiles were so confusing, leading to Bishop's decision to schedule a chat with Sloane today, as well as change the—

"Hey! You good to go?"

Bishop blinked. Torres was back and waving a hand in front of her face. "Oh, uh, yeah, yeah. Let's go."

He didn't tease her, but Bishop caught the quirked eyebrow he aimed her way as they slid into the front seats. If he had anything else on his mind, he kept it quiet. Maybe a good thing—they'd done a lot of talking, almost too much, today while locked up and stuck on a pressure plate, respectively.

Bishop was comfortable with the silence this time. Funny how it'd been rough a week ago—first after leaving the hangar with Torres and him giving her an oddly cold shoulder and her worrying about it, and second heading home with him after Merriweather's arrest but being too tired and too happy that Torres hadn't shut her out to bitch about his iffy attitude (which at least later was explained). But now was definitely a more comfortable drive.

They were blessed with green lights along the way save for one red light, so the journey wasn't as long as expected. When Bishop rolled up to the front of Torres' apartment complex, he shook his head and softly snickered.

"What?" she asked, chuckling a little herself, not because she was in on any joke but because his laughter was infectious.

Torres sprang another one of those bright smiles on her, and Bishop had to grip the steering wheel a hair tighter. "I was just thinking we were here earlier in the week…" He trailed off, but the pause was a welcome one. Torres licked his lips and took a breath. "Why don't you come in for a bite?"

Bishop blinked. With everything that had transpired today, she stunningly hadn't given dinner an ounce of thought. She also couldn't think of an excuse to turn him down, but she really had meant just to drive him home. Bishop opened her mouth to decline.

But Torres toned down his smile. "It's nothing fancy but leftovers. You yelled at me already for being overprotective, and I heard you, Bishop—but you still have to eat. You're here already, so why not? I _did_ keep you from finishing the ice-cream, after all," he added as an afterthought, but it was a nice, prompt reminder of one plus awaiting her inside.

"…fine," she caved, her sweet tooth winning out over her resolve.

She pulled into the resident parking. The space beside Torres' car was free—he grumbled again about his bike, since he usually parked it in this exact space—so Bishop took it and cut the engine. Torres hopped out first and Bishop grabbed just her jacket before locking up.

Inside, Torres' apartment looked just the same as it had last time. Same old modern furnishings in a mostly black and gray palette with the occasional other neutral or red accent here and there. Tiny dining table behind the couch that looked brand-new and unused. Bookcase along the wall behind that, lined with few books and mostly knick-knacks and photos—family, of course, but a lot of their NCIS family these days; Torres even printed out and framed the occasional selfie with them, though a lot of those selfies were with Bishop. Everything was neat and clean, Bishop appreciated as she draped her jacket over the back of the couch, noting the throw on its back had been folded, but his place still felt cozy and lived-in to her, still felt like _Nick Torres_ , and was a big part of why she liked coming over.

Torres, meanwhile, busied himself in his kitchenette. From the living room, all Bishop could see of him was his hand on the fridge door and his backside sticking out. "I've got last night's orange chicken—practically fresh!" he called out to her.

"You mentioned ice-cream," Bishop replied.

"Dinner first," he retorted.

Bishop pulled up a chair at the countertop. "Then just reheat whatever you've got in there. You know I'm not picky, Nick."

He didn't fight her on that point. With the decision in his hands, Torres busied himself reheating a container of something _meaty_ —and Bishop's nose identified it as he grabbed a package of tortillas from the cupboard beside the fridge.

"Okay, clearly you used your grandmother's fajita recipe this week and you were going to offer me day-old Chinese _takeout_?" Bishop snatched up her plate and assembled a fajita, inhaling the thing and not minding that the mixture half fell back out onto her plate.

He laughed. "And to think all you cared about was ice-cream," Torres quipped. He leaned against the countertop across from her, a knowing twinkle in his eye while they ate.

Bishop pursed her lips around a mouthful of fajita. No. Nope. This…this was no good. Not his grandmother's fajitas, of course—but this atmosphere. This week had been such a mess. _Today_ had been such a mess. She and Torres couldn't get anything right—and she needed to remind herself of that.

His insistence on knowing why that one phone call was so important.

Their bickering probably had been a contributing factor to their landing in those jail cells…

His overprotectiveness throughout the week.

His fear the moment they realized she was in a position to get blown-up for the second time this week.

…her fear when he was desperate enough to risk the ricochet in order to give himself a proper foothold in his cell…

(And a brief second when she wanted to Gibbs-slap him for feigning being hurt when he _did_ shoot a foothold.)

Her having to admit precisely why she'd planned to talk to Sloane today.

Her, having come far too close to admitting something else.

…something she had been all too ready to talk about days ago, when she'd nearly lost her life for the first time this week and yet the best thing to happen to her hadn't been walking out of that hangar but being caught in Torres' arms when he saw she was alive.

And, to top off all the annoyances, there were the instances like right now, with just the two of them, doing something as commonplace as eating together. Because friends, coworkers did that, too, right? This was just like normal…and didn't require further discussion. Dinner like this occurred between two people who didn't say the thing that Bishop had come close to saying today—and maybe that was yet another sign, yet another reminder that she not change the status quo.

Bishop had dropped her eyes to her dinner, and she picked them back up now, finding Torres watching her quietly. His expression was hard to read; sure, he was eating, too, but there was a steadiness to his observant gaze, as though he were content to keep quiet for now and just read her, the open book she felt like tonight…

She returned her focus to the food, filling another tortilla and losing her appetite for it halfway when the flavor disappeared the longer she felt Torres' eyes on her. She got up and retrieved the chocolate mint chip ice-cream from the freezer.

There. A few spoonfuls of the frozen dessert could put this waffling to rest, could put things into perspective and cool her down. Because kisses meant a lot of things, right? They didn't _have_ to carry a whole lot of meaning.

A kiss could mean anything she wanted it to mean.

Bishop slouched against the fridge door, the spoon against her lips, and brought her eyes back to Torres.

Torres had finished eating, too. He glanced her way, and there was a soft crinkle at his eyes when he smiled at her, gently, as if he weren't certain which Bishop he'd get right now—the irritated one from today, the fragile one from this week, or the tired one that seemed incapable of talking. So he began cleaning up after them. "Well, I'm glad we got to have a nice meal after that case. Although I want a month free from explosives," he added with a scoff as he rinsed the dishes.

"I second that," she agreed. "And, hey—thanks, for dinner."

Torres shrugged. "No biggie. Ah, not that I'm necessarily calling it an early night, but hand over the spoon, Ellie." He held his hand out for it.

"What? But I've only had—"

"How do you think I keep this place spic and span? I don't leave my chores for later," he teased, and he chuckled when she groaned and handed over the spoon after storing the ice-cream. At least he offered her a smile when she went to help him with the dishes, though he motioned her away. "I've got this. But I do still have to shower before I hit the hay."

Bishop ran a hand through her hair. "Ugh, don't remind me. I wonder how many people can say they were literally frozen with fear today the way we were?"

Torres dried his hands. "You mean you. I was Panic Central, you forget."

She chuckled and glanced at him. "Not gonna lie…considering everything you were attempting in your cell today, I honestly thought you'd be sweatier," Bishop admitted.

All Torres needed to do was come up with an amusing quip the way he'd done earlier when passing the C2 out to the remaining Duncan brother. He just needed to crack a joke, they'd laugh, Bishop would be on her way, and that'd be that.

Bishop would be able to end her week on the right note with him the way she intended, all this confusion and possibility of her and Torres being "her&Torres" completely wiped from her mind.

Instead, Torres was as Torres as ever. He turned away from the sink, leaning against the ledge and a little Bishop's way, his hands comfortably and loosely clasped in front of him, his legs crossed—Torres, casual and comfortable and sliding a heavy gaze her way. It came paired with an imperceptible smirk that Bishop would've missed if she weren't so wired around him. And then he said it: "Well, the day is over…but the night's still young."

Bishop stared up at him. No…this was no joke, because he didn't downplay it with even the tiniest of shrugs. And his eyes—he was back to looking at her lips. Wait— _back_ to? It took her brain a second to catch up, but she distinctly recalled him doing the same thing earlier, his eyes roving over her and him staring at her lips once they'd finally been able to see each other again after Torres had been freed from the adjoining cell.

…kisses meant a lot of things, right? They didn't _have_ to carry a whole lot of meaning.

But a kiss could mean anything she wanted it to mean. It could mean nothing more than fun, if she were looking for it. …but maybe it could mean a _whole lot of something_ , and maybe she'd spent this entire week annoyed with the wrong person because Torres had kicked the ball into her court and it was up to Bishop to initiate that conversation—a conversation not to be had with Sloane but with Torres, the topic, himself.

What was it Torres had said while they were trapped today? "Close calls make you live hard," right?

So she turned to Torres and yanked him closer, pulling on his left shoulder so he'd duck down to meet her, and kissed him, hard.

Torres wasn't as surprised as last time. But he still smiled against her lips, an action which made her cheeks warm, and she tried to glare at him. "So we're happening, yeah?"

"Do you _really_ want to analyze this right now, Nick?"

He shook his head but couldn't keep the amused smirk off his face as he threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head. "Point taken. Although we did just eat fajitas."

She brushed her nose along his jaw and pressed her body flush with his. Then she reached into his front left jean pocket and teased him a bit. "I see you restocked your emergency gum once we got back to the office," she said, her voice breathy with a laugh when he jerked.

"Well, this is a breath emergency, Ellie."

"I saw you lick the ice-cream spoon before washing it. Call it even, Nick." And, before he could gripe, she kissed him again. It wasn't too bad; sure, they both tasted a little of fajitas, but chocolate and mint were the predominate flavors…and there was an underlying something extra, something that was just _him_.

Torres on the field was a bit of a hothead and someone ready to take the lead. But he was content to follow her now and respond to each motion in kind. When she snaked her arms around his neck, he only needed one arm wrapped around her waist to lift her onto the countertop behind her. Their height difference was reversed now but closer and more comfortable for her.

Bishop discovered she quite liked cupping his head in her hands and angling his face up slightly while they kissed. Although, of course, the temptation for her hands to wander was great, especially with Torres' hands trying their best to behave, alternating between resting on her waist and drawing hazy, thought-derailing lines along the outsides of her thighs up to her hips. As if the mid-spring chill of March had come indoors and he thought he ought to keep warming her up.

If he were taking things slow because of any remaining concerns for how she physically felt, then she had to correct him of that notion right now. She did so with her left leg hooked around his lower half. His little "Oof!" had her toeing off her shoes next, and then she had both legs comfortably wrapped around him.

She slouched against him, resting her arms on his shoulders, their eyes meeting while they paused to catch their breaths. Bishop raised her eyebrows, her fingers feeling the warmth of him under the neckline of his shirt.

"I'm ready for whatever you're ready for," he whispered, punctuating his statement with a peck to her temple.

"Good." Bishop gave him another second to nuzzle her hair—he'd probably been pent-up, affection-wise, too—before she reclaimed his mouth. But this time she slid a hand under his shirt along his back. Ah, this temperature… They weren't sweaty yet, but they were on their way there.

Torres kept his attention on her neck while she entertained herself with tugging his shirt up. He disengaged long enough to shuck the thing, giving her a moment to shed her cable-knit sweater top, too, although he paused briefly and took her hands in his.

Bishop squeezed her legs around him. "Don't even comment on them," she warned him with a little glare.

"No, no, _those_ are perfect," Torres said smoothly. He kissed his way down her neck next to the strap on her right. "Just thinking it's been a long winter…and that you could use some sun."

She couldn't retort, but she did give him a pinch a little further down his back than was nice. He yelped and pouted at her, but she grabbed his chin with one hand and got him back on track.

It was so easy to lose count of the number of kisses, of how much time they spent close together like this, especially the more fervently their actions seemed. When had Bishop slid mostly off the counter, with Torres' hands under her knees to prop her up against him? Which of them had unhooked her bra, and which of them had unbuttoned his jeans?

It only took one staggering step backwards for Torres to laugh at himself and hug her to him. "We need a change of scenery, Ellie," he mumbled against her collarbone.

Bishop's eyes immediately flew to his couch. But a part of her didn't want to ruin the tender memory they'd made there earlier in the week…and a part of her wanted tonight's memory made elsewhere. "Agreed," she conceded, expecting to be put down on her feet at last.

But Torres wasn't one to disappoint. Across from them, the door to his bedroom was ajar, and he nudged it open the rest of the way all the while keeping Bishop in his arms. He placed her on the foot of the bed and hovered there for another kiss, and he laughed when he tried to pull away and she caught him by his jeans' belt loops.

"Just a little more of this first," she breathed against him. She reclined, enjoying him above her as they continued making out. Her hands were on either side of his face, and she was surrounded by his warmth.

Ever happily responsive to her, Torres had one hand by her face, his thumb sometimes brushing her cheek, his fingers still caught in her hair; his other hand stayed put on her waist, but that thumb drew little circles against her skin that sent jolts through her.

Bishop bit her lower lip and rested her face against Torres'. "Hey, Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"You asked if we were happening?"

Torres cocked his head so he could give her a raised eyebrow.

Bishop nudged her knee against his and then took that hand drawing circles by her waist, ushering it to her waistband. "We're happening."

* * *

It was a little after one in the morning when she woke. Bishop only knew because her watch was the only thing she still had on, and it had a glow-in-the-dark display, and…huh. Even for this late at night, her thoughts came into focus, and something stuck out to her:

It'd been several nights since she'd slept so soundly. Not that she'd meant to sleep with Torres for this purpose, but it was curious, considering she'd last slept all right about a week ago, when she'd last crashed here.

She shook her head slightly, wanting to scold herself. She'd spent a good chunk of yesterday bitching at Torres for his overprotectiveness, but—frankly? She wouldn't have him any other way. The nuttier he drove her, the more grounded she felt…

Torres tossed in his sleep, so Bishop set aside her thoughts and rested her head on his right shoulder. But the jig was up. "Your thoughts are loud, Ellie," he mumbled with his eyes closed. His words were warm against her forehead.

"Oh, sorry. Go back to sleep, Nick."

But he tucked her into his arms and drew the covers up over her shoulders. "Speak," he drawled. He sounded incredibly drowsy.

"You sure?"

"Eleanor Bishop, you have permission to speak whenever. Just…please no McGee- or Kasie- or Palmer-level words at this hour. And not without caffeine."

She snorted and closed her eyes. "I thought you and I were back to square one, you know."

"Hmm. After you kissed me last week?"

Bishop hugged him, a tiny part of her longing for that moment again. "…yeah."

"…did I screw that up?"

She heard the frown in his voice. "No, Nick. You've been infuriatingly charming."

"And overbearing, I know. I _am_ sorry about that."

"You're forgiven. Especially…" Bishop chewed on her lower lip. "Okay, this might make no sense, but—"

"Just out with it, babe."

She nodded. "Seeing you…so happy this week… I think I've had cold feet." Her stupid voice _broke_ as she said the phrase, though she tried to cover with an awkward laugh. "I just—I worried. A _lot_. Because what if I really hadn't been thinking with a clear head that day?"

Torres hugged her tightly to him. He brushed her hair away from her face. "You didn't have a concussion from the fight or from the nearby blasts, Ellie," he reminded her.

"No, but… So much happened. So much that maybe I hadn't been thinking straight, that maybe I'd rushed into things."

He was quiet when she paused.

"And yet…"

"And yet?"

Bishop swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. This was the one thing she hadn't told him yesterday, while they'd been caught or even after when they'd returned to headquarters. "And yet…during this week…it was with a clear mind that…I updated my emergency contacts."

Again, Torres was quiet.

"Nick?"

"Uhh…"

"Nick."

"…can I play dumb here…" He mumbled this against her hair, but she pinched the skin by his hip to keep him from hiding.

"No, you can't. But…yeah. I made my contact you, cowboy," she added with a grin. She touched his jaw and kissed him. "It's a huge deal for me, but are you all right with that?" Of course, even as she asked, she knew his answer—it was plain as day to anyone who'd observed them this week or had seen him ready to jump into a plane that was blowing up in order to save her.

Torres kissed her back. "Of course I'm good with that. Ecstatic! Well, pleasantly surprised—ah, so your talk with…" He spared her the embarrassment of pointing out the likelihood that once Sloane knew, it wouldn't be much longer before the rest of the office knew about them, even though Sloane could be trusted with secrets, both professionally and personally. "But, since we're on the topics of emergency contacts—"

Bishop's eyes went wide. She whipped her head around, nearly hitting him in the chin. "What?! _When_?!"

"Last year, after the hit and run. You're my number one, too."

"But—you—"

He chuckled. "I heard about you from the others in bits and pieces. I would've done the same in your shoes. So the next time you try telling me I'm being extra anything—well, the jig is up, Ellie." Torres hesitated. "Although treating you like a Fabergé egg is going overboard, yeah, sorry about that."

Bishop half sighed, half laughed. "You care about me, Nick, I get it. And you know I care, which is all that matters. So we're just—extra."

Torres snickered. "We make quite the pair."

"That we do."

An odd beat passed. "…so no more cold feet, yeah?"

Bishop shook her head. "Nah." She hugged his arm to her.

"Well, even if you do get them, I've got the patience for you to emerge from your NSA-over-analyzing mindset again."

"Uh! I do _not_ overanalyze!" She yanked the pillow from under his head and smacked him with it.

But he only laughed. "Sometimes!" Suddenly he sat up. "Y'know, we did an _excellent_ job on the getting sweaty part, but I never did take that shower. Care to join me?"

Bishop rolled her eyes, a useless action in the dark. But she'd meant it when she'd told him the cold feet were gone. She was done avoiding the possibility of them. So, when she got up and took his hand, that was a hand she planned to take for good.

**Author's Note:**

> Staying up…until four…in the morning…to draft a fic like this…is worth it… 8D There are a lot of tiny details here meant for eagle-eyed fans who watched "1MM," so I'm not gonna point them out here in my A/N. When watching the primetime airings, usually I might jot down one or two things, like fic ideas; this was my first time taking down full notes as I watched live, tho, and BOY WAS IT WORTH IT BC WHAT AN ELLICK EPISODE THAT WAS. It just…slotted in so cleanly after both "Head of the Snake" and my oneshot, "Redo," I was flabbergasted. But there was so much UST and eye sex btwn them that I couldn't not write this story, esp given the eye sex at the v end of the ep, bc istg they must be screwing now?! I just. Idk but THEY'RE THROWING PHEROMONES EVERYWHERE, OKAY. I could talk for days about this episode, but I'll stop here. :3c Let's see, what else… Oh! I occasionally write smut, but I realized that I've never written smut for any of my live-action media fandoms, so this is me toeing the waters here with a strong T/an almost M-rating; it's a little tough bc, as an artist, I'm a v visual person, so it's a little embarrassing, *lol*, but that doesn't mean I won't ever write NCIS smut—just not yet! :D On a slightly related note, the vibe of the fic, esp the sensual scene, is represented by the song "[All About Us](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXxfFR6ksEQ)" by CODE KUNST featuring Niia! I listen to a lot of Korean R&B and hiphop, but this one is all in English and just so sexy and hits the right vibe and just. -w- Highly rec listening to it while you read! Last tidbit—Torres' bookcase and selfies: This is a nod to the cast and all the on-set selfies they take. Couldn't help myself when they're so darn adorable! :D
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review/comment, as I worked v hard to churn this out quickly in response to this week's episode! Check out my other NCIS fics if you liked this, too.
> 
> -mew-tsubaki B3


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